


The Winter Collection

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Crack, M/M, Sugar Daddy, but done really badly, by an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Nigel tries to woo Adam with gifts. It would help if the gifts were any damn good.





	The Winter Collection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



> For Ishy, for her birthday. This is complete nonsense. Image links in the end notes.

Nigel met Adam Raki on a bench in Central Park on a cold, cloudless night, three months after his beloved Gabi and her squealing cunt boyfriend had used a video tape to chase him out of Romania. Adam had a thick metal carrying case on the bench beside him that would later turn out to hold a telescope, and he was watching a pair of raccoons shuffle off into the bushes.

Nigel only met Adam Raki at all because he’d flicked his cigarette into the grass and been greeted with a very loud, very _appalled_ “You shouldn’t do that.”

It had been a very long time since anyone, besides idiot Americans with terrible hair, had tried to tell Nigel what to do, and even longer since Nigel had bothered to listen. He may have been in New York, now, but he still had ties to the things that gave him his livelihood, still had eyes on every corner and six places to hide a body before dawn.

Much to his surprise, the voice had _not_ belonged to an idiot American with terrible hair. Adam Raki was American, yes, but with a head of short, soft-looking curls. And, as Nigel would quickly realize, he was fucking _brilliant._

“Oh yeah,” Nigel had drawled, and Adam’s gorgeous blue eyes had skittered over him, taking him in with wide eyes, lingering over his tattoo and the part in his hair, yet avoiding his face entirely. “And why’s that?”

He’d expected an attitude, maybe a threat, a clenched fist. Something to push this pretty little thing firmly back into the corner of ‘punchable.’ Instead, he’d gotten a furrowed brow, a concerned expression, as if the poor boy _genuinely_ thought Nigel was being serious.

“Littering is a finable offense in New York City,” Adam had told him, “And besides that, there are so many cigarettes tossed aside on streets that raccoons tend to eat them. They’ll get sick. I would prefer it if you would pick up your cigarette butt, but if you’re in a hurry, I’ll do it for you. I’d rather not, though, there’s nowhere here to wash my hands, and tonight is a good night for star gazing.”

Nigel had tilted his head back to look up at the sky. There was a lot of light pollution in Bucharest, too, but he’d spent a few months out of the country, in places where you could see a thousand tiny dots in the smallest patch of sky. In his personal opinion, it was never a good night for star gazing when you lived in a city.

“Well,” He had said, bending to scoop up his trash, “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on the stars.”

“Thank you,” Adam had said, reaching for his case, and he had sounded so unbelievably genuine, so _pleased_ to be able to continue with his plans, that Nigel had forgotten whatever it was he had come to the park to do. Instead, he had plopped himself down on the bench next to Adam, who had stiffened, midway through pulling out his telescope. It was an older thing, slightly battered around the eyepiece and the legs of the stand, but clearly well-loved and well-cared for.

“Don’t stop on my account, darling.”

\-----

Nigel knew within thirty minutes of meeting Adam that he wanted to fuck him silly. Preferably in a huge, fluffy bed with rose petals, but he was willing to accept ‘the couch,’ ‘the floor,’ ‘up against the door,’ and ‘right there in the middle of Central Park’ as viable alternatives. After several more days, Nigel adjusted his desires from ‘furious copulation’ to ‘church wedding at sunset.’ The thing about Adam was that he snuck up on you; he went from this beautiful, quirky little thing to the center of your universe before you realized it. At least, he did for Nigel.

The thing about Nigel was that he was a drug dealer. Specifically, he dealt drugs to _other_ drug dealers, who in return paid him exorbitantly for the privilege. It wasn’t the _most_ important thing about Nigel, but it was one of the big ones.

He and his best friend Darko had sat atop a pile of cash and cocaine for well over a decade. By the time Nigel had fled Bucharest, they’d ruled it with an iron fist. Breaking into business in New York City, already well-populated with its own drug mafias, was not an easy task, but they’d had an upper edge, and the charisma to strike deals for their own territory. It had taken very little time for the two of them to have Nigel sitting pretty again, and as a result, Nigel had a lot of money.

Like, a _lot_ of money.

More money than any one simple man knew what to do with, when they got their coke for free and their only major expense was cigarettes and booze. Hookers too, once or twice, but that had stopped after Adam.

That first night, Adam had spent two hours describing the view to Nigel, detailing the small smattering of stars that they could see. Nigel had missed a hand off, as well as a territory meeting. Darko had reamed him out for it later, but as far as Nigel was concerned, Italians were like any other man. They were forgiving enough if you gave them some free samples.

And it had been worth it to listen to Adam. Adam, as it turned out, _really_ liked space, to the exclusion of just about any other interest. The fall evening was chilly, especially as the hour grew late. Adam had been blue-lipped and shivering by the end of the night, too caught up in his excitement to think about anything other than the vast mysteries he’d been explaining. Nigel had draped the poor thing in his own coat and carried his telescope for him all the way back to his apartment.

“I go to the park any night the weather is clear,” Adam had told him, hesitant, uncertain. Nigel had grinned.

“I’ll be there.”

And he was. Every time. Sometimes Nigel went even though the sky was cloudy, just to be sure he didn’t miss anything.

So, Nigel had a lot of money, and now he had Adam, this quirky beautiful man, who would stare at Nigel’s chin and ramble off things about particles and physics, string theory, a host of things Nigel had never heard of. It was nice to have a friend in a new country. Would have been nicer still if Adam was picking up any of the hints Nigel was throwing at him, but apparently, Asperger’s tended to put a wrench in those things.

When the late October chill finally settled over New York, and Adam started to shiver more than he spoke at their meetings, Nigel had The Idea.

It was a brilliant idea, really. Would have worked on any woman in Bucharest, except perhaps Gabi, who had been a complicated and baffling creature, and who, through her father, had enough wealth of her own for Nigel’s to be irrelevant.

Adam was also complicated and baffling, but in addition to that, he lived alone and worked for a pittance of a salary. So, Nigel had hope.

\-----

“I’m not going to wear that.” Adam stared at the coat in what Nigel could only interpret as wide-eyed horror. It was the most expressive Nigel had seen him in the weeks they’d known each other. Nigel looked down at the coat in his hands with a frown, and then attempted to force it into Adam’s hands again. Adam clenched his fists so that he wouldn’t accidentally grab hold of the thing and took a step back.

“It’s a gift, darling,” Nigel prompted. Sometimes, Adam required a bit of coaxing in the matters of social interaction

“Thank you. I’m not going to wear it,” Adam repeated, eyebrows furrowed in baffled displeasure. Nigel frowned down at the coat again. This was not going as planned.

“It’s space, darling, you love space.”

“It’s a child’s facsimile of space,” Adam insisted, folding his arms across his chest, “It doesn’t look like that. Those meteors are _pink_. And those animals cannot be found in space, they would suffocate.”

There were indeed animals on the shirt, grey tigers and eagles and some sort of lizard/snake hybrid with the mouth of a lion, all set against a dark blue background with admittedly cartoonish depictions of stars and planets. Nigel had thought it was kind of badass, at least for something he’d put on his darling. _He_ wouldn’t wear it, but Nigel was a different sort of badass than his brilliant little stargazer.

“It’s fantasy, Adam,” Nigel tried, “Look, I think this one’s some sort of dragon.”

“I don’t like fantasy,” Adam reminded him stubbornly, “And that creature is mildly upsetting to look at.”

Okay, the dragon/gryphon thing _was_ a little freaky. But Nigel had spent nearly three thousand dollars on the damn thing, and fuck him if he was going to let Adam stand there shivering with his breath fogging up his telescope lens when there was a perfectly good jacket to layer over his sweater.

“Just once, gorgeous,” Nigel begged, like any good boyfriend knew to do when they were in the doghouse. Granted, he wasn’t _actually_ Adam’s boyfriend yet, but it was only a matter of time, especially if he bought a better jacket. “Just tonight? You look so cold, just wear it until I take you home?”

“We walk to my apartment,” Adam pointed out, but he relaxed slightly, “You don’t ‘take’ me anywhere.”

“I could,” Nigel said, sensing an opportunity, “I’d take you anywhere you liked, darling.”

“I really just wanted to look at the stars tonight,” Adam said, wary.

Nigel chuckled. “We can look at the stars all you want if you’ll let me keep you from freezing to death.”

“It’s hardly cold enough for me to catch hypothermia,” Adam said. He sighed, though, looking longingly towards his telescope. “Just until I get home?”

“Just until you get home,” Nigel promised, with his most winning smile. Adam was immune to the varying degrees of ‘smile’ Nigel possessed, but it didn’t hurt to keep in practice.

With another sigh, Adam allowed Nigel to tuck him into the jacket. He frowned down at it, but it didn’t take long for the stars to pull him back in.

When Nigel walked Adam to his door that night, Adam attempted to press the jacket back into his hands. Nigel shook his head and nudged Adam towards his door with a firm hand on his lower back.

“Oh no, gorgeous, that’s not the deal. You don’t ever have to wear it again, but you do have to keep it. That’s how gifts work.”

Adam never wore the jacket again, but weeks later, Nigel would find it hanging in his closet, neat and tidy as the rest of his clothes.

\-----  
The shirt that came in the mail two weeks later had snakes on it, bright red against their starry background, and in Nigel’s defense, he’d ordered it before the whole ‘those animals would die instantly in space’ thing. He’d ordered a whole bunch of things, actually, and was a bit warier now than he’d been when putting in his credit card info.

So, it was on to plan B. Adam didn’t like the patterns, fine, but every pretty little thing Nigel had ever wooed into his bed had shown an appreciation for the name brands.

(There was, of course, the nagging-and-probably-accurate thought that Adam wouldn’t give a damn about name brands, but Nigel was staunchly ignoring that thought, to the tune of ‘20,000$ already spent, too late to turn back now.’)

Adam leaned back against the park bench and glared down at the bag Nigel had handed him.

“No,” He said, closing the bag up and handing it back.

“Adam-“

“Nigel, it’s worse than the jacket.”

“It’s _Gucci_ , Adam.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Adam insisted, shaking his head as Nigel shoved the bag back into his lap.

“It means it cost me over 2000 dollars.”

Adam hesitated, peaking back into the bag again. Far from impressed, he looked horrified.

“ _Why_?” He asked, too-loud in the darkened park. Nigel opened his mouth to explain and then paused, staring at the bag himself.

“I… I don’t actually know.”

Adam looked pained, as if Nigel had just told him Mars had been excommunicated from the solar system. “Send it back, Nigel.”

“I’m not going to send it back.”

“Well, I’m not going to wear it.”

Nigel took a deep, frustrated drag from his cigarette. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you how to politely accept a gift?”

“No one ever tried to make me wear a shirt with venomous snakes before.”

“Then don’t wear it. Hang it in your closet! Use it as a cleaning rag for all I care.”

Nigel glared down at the dirty sidewalk. Beside him, Adam drew in a sharp breath, and then a gentle hand landed on his shoulder.

“Thank you for my gift, Nigel,” He said, soft and sweet enough to draw an involuntary smile to Nigel’s face, “I appreciate that you thought of me. Please do not do it again.”

Nigel winced, thinking of the invoice in his email. “Yeah, about that…”

\-----

Nigel had bought Adam seven more shirts, each more poorly received than the last. Adam took six of them with barely concealed loathing, hanging them up in his closet alongside the jacket and the snake shirt. The Versace t-shirt, with its huge logo and awkward print, he flat out refused.

“Please, Nigel,” Adam had begged, “I will do anything you want if you don’t make me take this shirt home. My closet is overflowing.”

There were quite a few things Nigel wanted Adam to do with his pretty mouth and soft hands, but those sorts of requests were still beyond him. In a desperate, last ditch attempt, Nigel tried a classic.

“Go to dinner with me?” He asked, shoving the shirt back into its bag. Adam frowned.

“Go to dinner with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Nigel, we eat dinner together most nights.” Adam nudged the cooler by his foot for emphasis.

“Yeah, in the _park_. Let me take you to a restaurant.”

Adam stared at him thoughtfully. “Okay,” He finally said, “On one condition.”

Nigel’s relieved sigh caught in his throat. He eyed Adam warily. “What condition?”

“You have to wear one of the shirts.

\-----

As it turned out, there were in fact nice restaurants in New York City where you could get a quiet, darkened, _private_ booth, and also mac and cheese. They were not the sort of restaurant that approved of the snake shirt, particularly when Nigel had gone one step further and worn the bomber jacket over it, but Nigel was paying too much for them to care.

Adam, on the other hand, was a goddamn vision, as always. He hadn’t put any particular effort into his appearance, no more than usual, but Nigel was addicted to the way button-down shirts hugged his arms, to the little flash of collarbone revealed by an open button, since Adam avoided ties whenever possible. His hair had been neatly combed, since Adam couldn’t abide by anything else, but he was overdue for a trim, and the curls were stubbornly fighting the style they’d been forced into. He didn’t look at all like a man ready for a first date, and it did not take long for Nigel to realize the reason.

Adam had no idea they were on a date at all.

In fact, despite the candlelight, and the wine that had brought an irritated look to Adam’s face after only one sip, Adam acted as he did every other night they were together, chattering away about space while Nigel sweated through his ugly jacket and tried not to look nervous. He normally loved hearing Adam chatter about space, but tonight he’d had plans. Hopeful plans. Naked plans. Plans that were, in retrospect, a bit unrealistic, given what he knew about Adam.

“The menu doesn’t have prices,” Adam noted, frowning down at the elegant script. In a desperate attempt to turn the evening back in his favor, Nigel tried blunt crassness, with a hint of leering on the side.

“Don’t worry, Daddy’s got it.”

“My father is dead, Nigel,” Adam announced, his irritated confusion loud enough to draw attention even beyond their secluded alcove. The waiter, back with a more palatable beverage for Adam, shot Nigel a dirty look.

Nigel groaned and buried his face in his hands.

\-----  
The clutch had, in all honesty, been a bit of a joke.

Nigel had been drunk, drunk on cheap vodka, expensive whiskey, and the blue of Adam’s eyes, imprinted on his brain. He’d ordered the clutch in a sort of half-hearted hope that perhaps Adam would be amenable to expensive gifts he didn’t have to actually _wear_. And also, because drunk Nigel was prone to flights of fancy, and there was just a hint of something delicate to the idea of Adam carrying a clutch. Something soft-edged and sweet, something that would look good in a scrap of lace framing decidedly masculine features and _damn,_ but Nigel had it bad.

The bag didn’t actually come for another week, until after the terrible dinner fiasco (Which had honestly not been that terrible. At the very least, _Adam_ had enjoyed the meal, and he’d found chocolates to be a much more palatable gift). By the time it came, Nigel was sober and resigned to his fate as Adam’s best friend. He’d tried _everything_ , expensive gifts, sweets, candlelight dinner, outright flirting. Nothing. It was as if Adam didn’t have a clue that he was being hit on. Even when Nigel blatantly complimented the cut of his slacks.

He was getting a bit sick of his right hand, but Nigel had to admit that being Adam’s best friend was hardly the worst fate he could devise for himself. It was certainly better than a life _without_ Adam. Still, by the time the clutch came, Nigel had given up, thoroughly defeated.

And yet, when Nigel realized exactly what it was he’d bought, he couldn’t help himself. Looking over the beautifully decorated but severely inaccurate clutch, Nigel though to himself, ‘Well, why the fuck not?’

\-----

Adam’s horrified expression was much more pleasing when Nigel was deliberately trying to invoke it. Still standing in the hallway outside Adam’s apartment, Nigel waved the clutch at him again. “Come on, darling, it’s useful. You can keep your keys in it.”

Adam took a step back, as if the clutch might actually burn him if he touched it. Nigel took advantage of the situation to let himself into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“No,” Adam protested, staring at the clutch, “No, I don’t want it.”

Nigel grinned, waving the clutch again. “Look, darling, it’s got Jupiter on it.” It did, in fact, have the word ‘Jupiter’ carefully scrawled across it, but the ringed planet beside it was definitely _not_ Jupiter. Adam’s look of horror was slowly transitioning to fury. It was just as beautiful as his joy.

“Jupiter doesn’t have rings like that!” Adam yelled. “It has rings of asteroids and debris, but it doesn’t have visible ice rings like Saturn does!” He turned his angry eyes on Nigel. As pretty as the clutch had been while he was drunk, he was starting to feel just a twinge of guilt.

“It was just a joke, Adam, I-“

“Why do you keep doing this?” Adam’s brow furrowed, his face went tight. He folded in on himself in a manner Nigel had never seen from him before. “Are you making fun of me? I don’t understand.”

“No, darling, never,” Nigel hastened to assure him. He threw the bag aside, price tag be damned. It skittered away under a piece of furniture.

“Then why are you doing this? All these factually inaccurate shirts, the weird dinner… My closet is overflowing, and you know I can’t afford to pay for a meal like that…” Adam trailed off, closing his eyes and biting at his lip.

Nigel has known that at first Adam wasn’t picking up on his intentions, but he’d become so obvious in his efforts lately that he thought Adam had been trying to let him down gently.

“Are you… Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Nigel babbled, unable to stop himself.

Adam flinched, hunched over, eyes shadowed. Nigel reached for him, tugging him close.

“Why are you doing this?” Adam asked again. His eyes flicked over Nigel’s face, wide and hurt.

“I just wanted you to kiss me, gorgeous.”

“…Oh.” Adam blinked up at him, anger fading, replaced with confusion. “Oh. Really?”

Face flushed, Nigel nodded. Adam frowned.

“The next time you’d like to kiss me, perhaps you could buy more scientifically accurate gifts? Or at least more visually appealing?”

Nigel’s mouth felt dry. “The… Next time?” He squeaked.

Adam smiled, soft and warm. His lips brushed against Nigel’s, a soft, chaste little motion that nonetheless pulled a moan from Nigel’s chest.

“You know,” Adam said, “I would have kissed you anyway, if you’d just asked. But if the gifts are a requirement, there’s a telescope I’ve been eyeing.”

Nigel hooked his hands under the curve of Adam’s ass and lifted him bodily into another kiss. Adam yelped against his mouth and wrapped his thighs tight around Nigel’s hips. “I’ll buy you _two_ ,” Nigel growled, and Adam laughed into the next kiss.

“One will suffice, Nigel.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [The Jacket](https://www.farfetch.com/shopping/men/gucci-space-animals-print-bomber-jacket-item-12147126.aspx)   
>  [ The Snake Shirt](https://www.farfetch.com/nz/shopping/men/gucci-space-snake-print-windbreaker-item-12331520.aspx)   
>  [ The T-Shirt](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/515645479435108375/525732250797735939/Screenshot_20181207-074304.png)   
>  [ The Clutch](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/515645479435108375/525733392147546132/valentino-midnight-blue-cosmos-embroidered-satin-clutch-blue-product-3-737880877-normal-1.jpeg)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know if there's an issue with the links. 
> 
> This is for Ish, who showed me that clutch, much to my horror. It's so pretty for something so odd. 
> 
> There's a bigger story here, where Nigel very definitely continues to buy Adam expensive clothing, and it takes a distinctly sexual turn now that they are together. But that's a tale for another time.
> 
> This is just a silly little thing, so no extensive end notes this time. Happy Birthday, Darling!
> 
> EDIT: I LOVE WHEN I POST FIC WITHOUT REMEMBERING TO REMOVE MY EDIT NOTES


End file.
